He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. " "Be silent dog," cried Jonathan. " "The White Hollyhock would fit her better. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. If only for the sake of her argument with her home, she wanted success.
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